Broken Pieces Remain
by Starling-chan
Summary: After Kyoto, things change. Whether that change is good or not is debatable.


Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. Try again later.

Broken Pieces Remain

It starts with a fire- Tsuzuki welcoming black flames with open arms and Hisoka swearing to himself to never let this man get so far down again- while the maple leaves are bright red in Kyoto.

Hisoka tries to keep this promise that he made himself, but it's far from easy. Tsuzuki never tells him anything; really, most of what Hisoka knows is because of his empathy. He wishes Tsuzuki would tell him these things instead, because it's just not he same when he has to worry about whether or not to let Tsuzuki know that _he_ knows whatever secret Tsuzuki dreamt about last night.

Sometimes, though, it's better not to say anything. Like now, as they lay in bed together, twined around each other such that Hisoka can't quite tell where he begins and Tsuzuki ends. It's not a good moment- the case they just got back from a few hours ago had been terrible, and there's melancholy aplenty between the two of them. As Hisoka kisses Tsuzuki, he's kissing these wounds that Tsuzuki tries to hard to hide more than he's kissing Tsuzuki himself. It's hard, of course, but Hisoka has some experience in this now. He knows just what to do to quiet that crying for a even just a little too-short while.

Hisoka wants to know how to _stop_ the tears instead, but Tsuzuki would rather suffer instead.

"I love you," Tsuzuki murmurs, eyes closed, hands wandering all over Hisoka's body.

_I love you, too_ Hisoka doesn't say- he shows it, instead, because he already knows that Tsuzuki's not going to believe him if he says it instead. But to be honest, Hisoka's not too sure if Tsuzuki believes him like this, either.

It's just another kind of fire here, one they both started and are burning in together. Maybe it's a cleansing fire; Hisoka's not really sure anymore. He was sure before that this was some sort of progress, something that showed that the pieces of them were glued just a little better than before, but now he can't say. Now it seems more like all they're doing is melting the glue.

Hisoka likes to think that someday it won't be flames that consume them, but something– better. The sort of stuff that shows up so often in the fairy tales and that Hisoka thought he gave up on before he was six but can't help but wish for now.

They huddle together under the covers late at night. Tsuzuki's sleeping. He's not dreaming, although he has nightmares about as often as Hisoka does. They're just two broken souls trying in vain to help each other. Neither of them knows how.

Hisoka's not sleeping. He's listening to Tsuzuki's breath, quiet and regular. It's a sound that fills him more with sorrow than peace. It makes him think that he's making a mistake; that he'd made it when he forced Tsuzuki to stay and live.

Hisoka would willingly give Tsuzuki any spare parts he needs to make himself whole, but it's not as if he has them himself. It's nights like this that he's reminded of just how damaged they both are. It's nights like this that Hisoka realizes again that there's probably no hope for either of them- every time, a small part of him gives up. Hisoka wonders how long it'll be before his whole self gives in.

If there's anything that Hisoka wants more than anything, it's to be able to extinguish the fire that burns in Tsuzuki's soul. Like Tatsumi got them out of the lab, Hisoka wants to get Tsuzuki out of his self-imposed hell.

But the fire grows only stronger now, as they disguise their pain with pleasure and cruelty with tender caresses. A mix of emotions, ranging from ecstasy to self-hatred enough to drive someone to destroy his own soul, consume the room. Hisoka feels like he's drowning, or maybe they're back in the lab with Touda above them. It's all a confusing mishmash of feelings that make Hisoka think that he's just a few inches away from falling off the edge of a tall cliff. He can't tell whether he's pushing Tsuzuki away from that edge, and he can't tell whether Tsuzuki's guiding him away from it, too- or whether they're both leading each other down.

Nights like this, Hisoka gets even less sleep than usual. He counts Tsuzuki's breaths or heartbeats for a distraction instead. Shares the warmth.

There are other, better nights- when they sit together on a couch (either his small off-white one, or Tsuzuki's larger, more beat-up one that's been looking like it's a thread away from coming apart for years now). Either they pretend to watch a movie or, more often, they just talk. Hisoka won't remember just what was said the next day; just that words flowed between them, and that makes him think that maybe there's some hope for them after all. He just knows that when he'd wake up in the morning, he'd feel just a little bit more rested, as if a small weight was taken off his shoulders. Tsuzuki would wake up sometime while Hisoka's taking a shower, and most of the gentleness of last night would be gone, replaced by the hyperactive puppy that Hisoka first learned to associate with the name "Tsuzuki". On especially good days, there even won't be any pain hiding in the back of his amethyst eyes.

Mornings like that, Hisoka would smile just a little. He'd think that maybe there's just enough between the two of them to make a whole person. That at the very least they can support each other.

But there were no words to soothe them tonight. Panting, moaning, yes, but nothing to so much as slow the bleeding of their deepest wounds.

Hisoka finally falls asleep wondering how he managed to screw up so badly.

Outside, cherry blossom petals that should be snow drift through the air.

---

Hisoka gets up before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed, making sure not to wake Tsuzuki up. He takes a long shower, knowing that Tsuzuki won't wake up for hours yet. Tsuzuki's not really a heavy sleeper, but he can make himself one if he wants to. There's no work today, so at least they can get some rest.

He leaves just as the sun starts to rise, heading back to his own house. There he feeds his fish before lying down on his own bed, blue and white striped blanket his only source of warmth- the heater's broken.

He keeps his cell phone next to his bed. Tsuzuki might call later today.

As he sleeps, Hisoka dreams of a fire that ended everything. The phoenix in the background promises a better tomorrow... if only he can find his way through today– and the only problem with that is the air choking him.


End file.
